The Hornmeister and His Beardy Thing
by Moondancing Millie
Summary: Dave the Laugh has something to show Georgia. Oo-er.


_A/N:__ All hail the marvy Louise Rennison, who hath produced for us all a series jam-packed full of fabnosity. I, under no circumstances own the series, this one-shot here is only the product of my imagination. I don't own the characters, the vocabulary or anything else. Just the plot._

_Comprende?_

_For Maz and Megan, my own personal Ace Gang._

**The Hornmeister and his Beardy Thing**

_**by Moondancing Millie**_

_**Sunday, September 18th  
**__7:30 pm._

Same bat time, same bat place.

_7:31 pm._

Also known as in the kitchen, _avec le _Jammy Dodger.

Yum, yum.

_7:32 pm._

Mum shouted from the lounge, "Gee, there's something just came through the letterbox for you!"

How could she know it is for me? I'll tell you how – she doesn't. She is just too lazy to go pick it up herself. That is the kind of house I live in.

A house of child-labour. I will tell you this for free, one day I _will _phone up Childline. Even if I do get Esther Rantzen.

_7:33 pm._

On second thoughts… no. I will take the child labour.

_7:34 pm._

Looked at the envelope. Surprisingly, it was addressed to me. Well, it was addressed: **"To Sex Kitty**." I am the only Sex Kitty in this house. Unless Mutti…

Erlack! Shut up, brain!!

_7:35 pm._

It says:

**Dear, Georgia.**

Always a good start.

**I have something to show you. I am warning you now – it is quite spectacular. Even better than your nungas. Meet me tomorrow at the clock tower, at seven.**

**Until then, Kittykat.**

**Dave  
****X**

Bloody hell. Why he couldn't have just phoned me is beyond me. Now I have to hide this somewhere before my vati finds it.

_7:36 pm._

Cracked it. I'll stick it in my undercrackers drawer. Dave would be happy with it there.

Why am I caring about what Dave thinks about my undercrackers?

_7:40 pm._

Phoned Jas. As usual, she was attached (oo-er) to Tom.

"Jas, I know this may be hard to comprehend, especially for a div like you, but is it possible for me to talk to you _without_ Tom?"

Mumble-mumble in the background. Shuffle-shuffle. Thud-thud.

Good grief.

"Jas, what is that noise?"

"That's just Tom. He's bought me a five-foot replica of a red squirrel, and it weighs quite a bit. He's trying to put in the corner of my room, so that it's the first thing I see when I wake up."

_Sacre _bloody _bleu_.

_7:41 pm._

Told Jas about the note from Dave the Laugh. She started sucking her pencil.

"What do you think I should do?"

"Well…" Jas began. Suck-suck. "I don't know, Georgia. I thought you were eschewing your red bottom." What does she take me for? A common tart? I'm only meeting up with him, it's not like I'm going there thinking 'This is going to end with snogging'.

Oh, alright. You caught me.

"I _am_ eschewing…" I trailed off as Vati came into the kitchen. He eyed me suspiciously (Scary. I have to continually remind him that I am at a very impressionable age.) before reaching into the cupboard for something to eat. I am not surprised he is the size of _une maison. _I lowered my voice. "…my red bottom. As I have said before, _mon pally,_ I am practically married to the Luuurve God."

"No, Georgia." Jas was quickly zooming up the having-a-hump scale. She is getting rather good at it. I think she's found her special talent, besides owl yielding, or whatever else she does. Inspecting ferret droppings. "Remember yesterday? When there was nearly a fight between Dave and Masimo because of your red bottomosity?" I really wish she would stop talking about my red bottomosity with Tom still in the room. I know he is there, I can still here the groaning (oo-er) of him lifting that squirrel.

"Yes, yes, Jas." My dad was finally gone – after several agonising hours of him _sloooooooowly _crawling into the hallway. "Please, you remember how touchy that subject is. It's because of that incident that I am once again on the rack of love."

"No, it's because of _you _that you are on the rack of love. And anyway, weren't you 'practically married' to Masimo a couple of seconds ago?"

"Picky, picky, Jas." I spied the packet of Jammy Dodgers on the kitchen table, calling to me. "Thank you for all your marvy help, Batwoman. I think I have found the answer to my problems."

That surprised her.

"Really?" she asked. "And what's that? Have you decided to give up on boys altogether?" Hahahaha. Wise Woman of the Forest can be so vair, vair amusing.

"Nope. I will eat _les _Jammy Dodgers to maximise brainwaveosity. Au revoir, Jazzy. Pip, pip."

"Georgia, Jammy Dodgers will not-"

I put the phone down. Teeheehee.

_7:45 pm._

Buggeration. Wise Woman of the Forest was right. Jammy Dodgers do not increase brainwaveosity. I am still here on the rack of love without one tinsy idea as to how to get off it…

Should I agree to meet Dave the Laugh tomorrow?

_7:46 pm._

The phone is ringing. It is quite obviously Jas ringing back so that she can inform me she has the hump.

I already know this; therefore I am skipping a step. I am _ignorez-vousing_ her.

I know, I know. I am _le _genius.

"Georgia, answer the bloody phone!"

Charming. I am made to do everything in this house.

Child labour, I tell you.

_7:47 pm._

Answered the blower.

"Sod off, Po."

"Same to you, Tinky Winky."

It was Dave! Bugger, bugger, bugger.

I didn't know quite what to say to Dave. He was once a cake in my bakery of love… but now I have my Italian cakey, the Luuurve God of Pizza-a-gogo land. I do not need my Dave the Tart.

I hung up the phone, and unplugged it. There, that solved that problem. My Italian Luuurve God cake is much better than a cakey that has something to show me.

_7:48 pm._

What _has _he got to show me, I wonder?

_7:49pm._

If I go. Which I won't. I am eschewing anything and everything which may interfere with my no red-bottomosity policy.

_7:50 pm._

I'm bloody curious, though. Especially as it better than my nungas.

_**Monday, September 19**__**th  
**__9:00 am, Assembly_

I told the Ace Gang everything _vis-à-vis_ Dave the Laugh and the note during prayers. I had to keep inserting (oo-er) an "Amen" into every sentence, so that Hawkeye wouldn't get suspicious.

"So, er, what did Dave, er, say again?" asked Ellen (who else).

"That he had – Amen – something to show me," I repeated.

Rosie said, "Oo-er," and I hadn't even mentioned the 'better than your nungas' part yet.

Instead, I said, "Amen. What should I wear?" Jas tutted. Tut on, tutter.

"Will it be dark?" Rosie asked. I nodded, and she exchanged looks with Jools. "Best go with the light-up bison horns, then."

Why had I not heard of this marvy development? "Light-up horns?"

Rosie nodded. "_Oui, ma petite. _Sven gave them to me for our fifty-four-and-three-eighths anniversary." I would never understand the ways of the Viking.

"This is ridiculous," Jas muttered, but I gave her a number four on the having-a-hump scale. Two can play on this horse, Wise Woman!

"The bison horns," I agreed, and I gave her my Klingon salute. "Top work, Batwoman. Amen." Jas rolled her eyes, but Rosie gave me a frown. It was not her best look – possibly scarier than Vati's face.

"Georgia, why do you keep saying Amen?"

_4:00 pm, walking home._

We have decided on black leather trousers and my (fake) leopard-skin blouse _vis-à-vis_ meeting Dave. Full-frontal glaciosity, and it sends the right message on the 'I am the girlfriend of a Luuurve God; do not get any ideas' front.

Oh yes, I have also decided that I am indeed going to meet Dave. When Tom and all the other boys came along to walk home with us, Dave the Laugh was not among them. I am quite worried.

Jas, however, has not noticed. She is too busy snogging the face off Tom.

She has no pridenosity.

_4:30 pm._

I will not be applying ze face-mask, as there is no need. It is just a friendly meeting between friends.

And occasional snogging partners.

Shut up, brain!!

_6:45 pm._

Just as I was sneaking out the door, Mutti decides to take an interest in where I was going. Just my fabbity fab luck.

"Gee?" she asked, as I was mid-step. "Where are you going?"

Lie, brain, lie.

"I'm just going to meet Dave the Laugh at the clock tower."

Bugger.

Plod-plod-plod. Mutti came into the hallway. She really should not let her 'danger to shippings' flow wild and free like that. It makes her top-heavy, and not the most graceful of walkers. Also, it is not the most pleasant thing to see whilst you are delicate, and on the rack of love.

"Dave the Laugh?" she repeated.

"No, Mutti." I shook my head. "I am Georgia. If you don't know this by now, you never will." Even when I am on the rack of love, I am still full of hilariosity.

"Georgia." Mutti crossed her arms over her ginormous nungas. "Why are you meeting Dave the Laugh?" Oh, _sacre bleu. _I have no time to explain this.

"I'll tell you when I get back," I said, before skipping out the door and closing it in her face. Hahahaha. She who laughs last laughs… er, last. And knowing Vati, that will indeedy be my last laugh. I may very well be in _mucho _trouble when I return, and I will be greeted with the "You are not living in a hotel, Georgia" lecture.

Rave on, el beardo.

_6:55 pm, near the clock tower._

Ooh, bum-oley. I wish Angus had been up to coming for a walk with me. I am now aloney all on my owney.

_7:00 pm, clock tower._

Dave was there, with his hand covered over his mouth, looking all ashamed.

I said, "Lordy, Dave, what is the matter? Have you snogged off your mouth by accident?" Dave rolled his eyes.

"No, you fool," he said. "I was just covering it ready to unmask it again. You have to do these things properly, Georgia." I was confused.

"Do what?" I asked, but he had already lifted up his hand. I stared.

Gadzooks.

"Dave," I said, slowly. "You appear to have a strange bug underneath your conk." He fingered it lightly, before frowning at me.

"Georgia," he said. "This is my moustache." He twirled it with his two fingers. "Do you like it?" I was horrified.

"You look like Adolf Hitler!" I cried, unable to stop looking at it. It really was quite repulsive. "No, worse. You look like Miss Stamp!"

Dave was hurt, I could tell. "I am quite proud of it," he said, stiffly. "It took me all day to grow."

All day?

Hang on…

I reached forward and ripped his moustache off. It was a fake!

"Bloody hell!" shouted Dave, holding his mouth again. "Georgia, that hurt!"

"Why would you pretend to have a moustache?" I asked him, waving his strange beardy buggy thing around accusingly. "And risk looking like Miss Stamp?" Dave snatched his beardy thing off me again, and stuck it back to his lip.

"Masimo doesn't look like Miss Stamp," he grumbled. "But I suppose Luuurve Gods can pull off the lesbian look. At least according to you, anyway."

What in the name of pantyhose was he larking on about?

"Dave," I said. "What in the name of pantyhose are you larking on about?" Masimo didn't have a moustache.

Unless you counted that small bit of hair on his lips looking all groovy and marvy and phwooar…

Dave took off his moustache again. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Are you telling me that you put on this moustache to impress me?" I asked. Dave threw the moustache over his shoulder indignantly.

"Certainly not, Kittykat. Stop trying to get off with me." I stamped my foot.

"Dave! I am not…" I trailed off. "What I mean is…" Oh, bugger it, as Dave would say. It had to be done. "I like you without your beardy thing." Dave looked up disbelievingly.

"Pardon?" Oh, Lordy. He was going to make me say it again.

"Dave…" He crossed his arms. "Fine. I like you." He raised an eyebrow. "Without your beardy moustache thing."

"Put it in Hornmeister terms," he said. I grumbled, but Dave was deadly serious. I half-expected him to _rummachen _about in his drawers for a pipe. "Repeat after me. 'I have the Particular Horn. And you are the one who blows it.'"

What fresh hell?

"Georgia…" Dave eyed me sternly.

Oh, for the sake of pants.

"Dave the Laugh, I have the Particular Horn. And you are the one who blows it." Dave grinned.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Would I have said all that nonsense if I didn't?" I asked. "Because really, Dave, that was ridiculous, even for me-"

I didn't, however, get to finish my sentence, for Dave had swept me off my feet (indeedy. I am not telling you a porkie) for some good old-fashioned 6 and a quarter on the snogging scale.

Marvy.

Until I remembered about my maybe-boyfriend Masimo the Luuurve God.

Oh, bugger him. I would figure that out tomorrow.

Right now it was Dave the Laugh _et moi_, having our very own ride-into-the-sunset moment, like Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Or perhaps Shrek and Fiona.

Either way, it was Dave's beardy thing that had brought us together, and that was the gist and the nub of it.

Oo-er.


End file.
